


a whole new world

by kinneyb



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, F/F, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-13 16:49:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21497338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: When Quentin gets wind of a hot spot for supernatural creatures - a bar - he can't help himself; he visits.He gets the answers he's looking for, and more.
Relationships: Kady Orloff-Diaz/Julia Wicker, Margo Hanson/Alice Quinn, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @ queermight  
love y'all

Quentin was making a horrible mistake and he knew it, but… his feet carried him into the club anyway, immediately overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the patrons, all unfairly beautiful men and women, most of them young.

Surely the rumors were all false, right?

Supernatural creatures definitely did not exist. Not in the real world, just books and movies. If he told any of the patrons why he was here, they’d probably laugh in his face.

Gulping, he started for the bar.

He realized fairly quickly his hands were shaking as he called the bartender over. Get it together, Coldwater, he thought bitterly, shoving his hands in the pocket of his oversized hoodie.

God… if Julia texted him right now, what would he even say? This was not a good part of town. She’d probably think he was on drugs or something.

He was only jostled out of his thoughts by the bartender as he arrived, already looking bored before Quentin even had a chance to say anything.

Not surprising, really, the bartender did not seem like the type of guy who’d like Quentin regardless of circumstances. He was tall with slightly darker skin and short hair and a few visible tattoos.

And a perfectly mastered scowl.

“What do you want?” he asked rudely.

Quentin blinked once. Were all supernatural creatures assholes? Wouldn’t that be something; find out all the things you dreamed about are real only to regret it because they’re assholes.

He shook his head. “Just. Uh, a Coke?”

For a long moment the bartender just stared at him like he was out of his mind before finally he grunted and turned away, preparing his drink. As much as Quentin wanted a drink right now (maybe more than ever) he knew it probably wasn’t smart.

The bartender turned and slammed a clear glass of dark liquid on the counter. “That’ll be ten dollars,” he remarked. Casually, like that was a totally sane thing.

Quentin gaped at him.

“Did I stutter?” the man asked, raising his dark eyebrows. He did not look like he was joking… but surely…

Grumbling, Quentin pulled out a ten from his pocket and handed it over. The man smiled, not kindly, and walked away, taking poor Quentin’s money with him.

“Fucker,” he muttered under his breath.

Maybe the potential discovery of mythical creatures wasn’t worth it.

“Penny?” a woman’s voice asked, somehow clear as day over the loud music.

Quentin startled, nearly spilling his soda, and turned toward the woman. She wasn’t very tall, but pretty with light blonde hair and blue eyes. She was also dressed oddly for a bar, conservative in a black dress with tights and a pair of brown boots.

He smiled nervously at her. “What?”

She didn’t smile back but sat beside him anyway, leaning on the counter. “The bartender,” she said. “His name is Penny. He can be kind of…”

“Dreadful?” he supplied helpfully.

Finally he got the hint of a smile out of the woman. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Something like that. I’m, uh. Alice, by the way,” she finished quickly, like she was somehow embarrassed.

Quentin couldn’t understand why; she was beautiful. He looked away and took a sip of his drink. “Quentin.”

She nodded, crossing his arms together on the counter. “I… haven’t seen you here before,” she continued, slowly.

Suddenly Quentin realized maybe this was it - maybe he could get some answers out of Alice. He turned to face her, eyes wide and sparkly.

“Do you come here often?”

She flushed; he could tell even in the dark bar, the red so stark against the paleness of her skin. She looked down and fiddled with the end of her dress. “Just for a few weeks,” she mumbled.

He could tell immediately she was hiding something. “Why?” he asked quickly, as if a young adult needed a reason to go to a bar.

But apparently he was onto something because she shifted awkwardly. “Um. There’s this girl - ” she started, growing redder by the moment.

She was interrupted before she could finish though by Penny making a reappearance. He looked at Alice like he looked at Quentin if not the tiniest bit fonder.

“She’s not here tonight,” he remarked.

Alice’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

Quentin was even more interested now. He leaned onto the counter. “Who?”

But Penny was already walking away again. Alice sighed lightly and tucked some hair behind one of her ears. “Margo,” she muttered, the corners of her mouth pulling down in a frown.

Quentin nodded slowly.

Who the absolute fuck was Margo?

“If she’s not here…” Alice mumbled, obviously mostly to herself, as she climbed off the stool and adjusted her dress.

Quentin followed her with his eyes. “You’re leaving?” he asked in disbelief. “Just because of one girl?”

Alice smiled tightly. “She owns the club, Quentin,” she said helpfully.

He nodded slowly. “So, you just come here for her?”

The answering blush on Alice’s face was enough. Quentin couldn’t help feeling some fondness for the girl; he’d just met her but he could already tell she was a lot like him, shy, a true introvert.

“She must be something then,” he remarked.

Alice’s eyes grew wide. “She’s incredible,” she corrected, a little too quickly. Pursing her lips, she slid back onto her stool. “She’s not the only owner though. She runs this place with, uh, her friend?” she said, not sounding so sure of herself. “Anyway, they’re both a sight to behold.”

He listened intently, filing all that information away for later. “Have you…” he wanted to ask her about the rumors online; that this was a sweet spot for mythical creatures but he was interrupted by a loud screech.

Throwing his hands up, he covered his ears and looked at Alice with wide eyes. She, for some reason, didn’t look shocked. She simply pointed behind him and so he turned, searching for -

Ah.

There was a stage near the back of the establishment, backlit with blue and gold lights and standing on it were two people, a woman and a man, both holding microphones.

Quentin slowly lowered his hands.

“Welcome, one and all,” the man greeted in a low, steady voice.

The man was… beautiful, and that was probably an understatement, really. Pale skin, tall and slender with dark, curls falling over his forehead and bright eyes.

The woman was just as beautiful with dark, caramel skin and a figure Quentin knew most women could kill for, long sweeping brown curls.

He gulped and looked back at Alice, who was openly staring at the woman.

Margo, his brain supplied. That meant the man was probably the other owner; Margo’s friend.

"What are they - " 

Before he could finish his question (a very valid "what are they doing?") the man's voice was filling the room. He was singing, and shockingly he was good. Amazing, actually. Everyone in the club settled down, growing mostly quiet as they listened. Margo didn't do much, just added a bit of harmonies when the song called for it but somehow she still glowed up on the stage like she belonged there.

Nearing the end of the song, she walked over and Eliot grasped her hand, spinning her elegantly. Quentin's eyes flickered to Alice, who was still watching the pair like a hawk. Finally the music slowly teetered off and Eliot grinned down into the crowd. 

"Have a wonderful night, all of you," he said, smoothly exiting the stage with Margo in tow.

Quentin spun around on his stool. "Wow," he breathed. "They were..."

Alice finally blinked, taking her eyes away from the stage, and looking at Quentin. "I know, right?" she said, but it wasn't really a question. She turned away and her expression hardened as she yelled, "Penny!"

He turned toward her from way down the bar and shrugged sharply before turning away again. Alice huffed quietly and crossed her arms.

"I'm starting to think this really is just a normal bar," Quentin muttered.

With unfairly beautiful people, sure, but still a normal bar.

Alice glanced at him, an odd expression on her face. "What?"

He startled and looked away, squinting at nothing in particular. He thought of the forums and suddenly felt very, very dumb. "There's just, uh - I don't know," he grumbled, staring down at his hands. "I found these forums."

He could feel her eyes still glued to him. "What are you talking about?"

"They were.. supernatural forums," he mumbled, so quiet he hoped she wouldn't hear.

She obviously did. "Okay?" she prompted. "And?"

"This place - this bar - it was mentioned a lot," he continued with a loud sigh, leaning back and yanking his fingers through his hair. Whatever, the secret was out - who cared; he was probably never going to come back, anyway. Which meant never seeing Alice again, too. "As a hot spot for supernatural creatures."

Alice was quiet for a long, long moment.

He peeked at her. She was watching him. 

"I know," he grumbled. "I'm dumb for thinking - "

Alice took a deep breath. "That's why I started coming here, too," she blurted suddenly, face red with her confession. "Uh, about three weeks ago. I read about this place, too, and I just - I got so curious I couldn't help myself."

He was, well, genuinely shocked. He had not been expecting that.

"So, so," he started quickly, maybe just a little excited. "You believe in them, right?"

He wasn't alone; even pretty girls like Alice believed in this kind of stuff. She smiled politely at him and shook her head. "I don't believe anything," she said, "not without proof." She shrugged. "That's why I was so - curious. I needed to come and see for myself. Make my own decision based on - on facts and evidence and - "

"So, have you found anything?" he interrupted, brimming with curiosity.

She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping, short blonde hair falling in her face. "No."

"Oh," he said simply.

Alice looked at him. She was blushing again. "I was looking, really, um. In the beginning but then I met Margo and I kind of got... distracted," she admitted quietly.

"Oh," he repeated lamely, understanding slowly. 

She narrowed her eyes. "Got something you wanna say?"

"No, no," he replied, maybe too quickly. "Just... I'll pick up where you left off," he said casually, picking up his empty glass and flagging down Penny. 

Alice gasped. "I have not given up," she replied harshly. 

Quentin watched as Penny started to walk over. "Of course," he agreed easily.

"God, you're a dick," she muttered just as Penny stopped in front of them. He looked only vaguely interested in their conversation as he took Quentin's glass and filled it. 

After that, Alice left and Quentin stayed for a while longer, sipping his soda and watching the crowd. He couldn't believe it, honestly. Alice knew there was a chance supernatural creatures existed and she'd gotten distracted by the first pretty girl she saw? That was - Quentin couldn't understand it. He sighed quietly, eyes flickering around the crowd, taking in all the faces. 

Well, he wouldn't be so easily distracted. No way. He was going to get answers.


	2. Chapter 2

Quentin ended up telling Julia a few days later but only because she was catching on, smart as ever. 

"Where do you keep going almost every night?" she asked, which, okay, was an exaggeration. He only went to the bar two nights a week because they weren't open the other nights.

Oh, maybe he was showing signs of a problem. Like an addict, but for something more.

He sighed lightly and closed his book, looking over at his best friend and roommate. Julia stood a few feet away from the couch, watching him with curiosity, yes, but more than that. She was concerned; it was written all over her face.

For a moment he really did feel bad. Like a shitty friend for not being honest with her.

But he knew she would only laugh in his face. Sure, she loved fantasy and stuff but she didn't actually believe in any of it. It was just fun stuff they indulged in when they were bored and had nothing else to do.

"It's complicated," he said eventually.

Julia quirked an eyebrow and walked over, sitting on the armrest of the couch. "I have nothing but time," she lied easily as if she didn't have work in the morning.

Because she was a real adult, established. Not like Quentin, who worked at a local bookstore and barely made enough for his part of the rent. No, Julia was a counselor and an amazing one at that. 

Quentin would know. She'd been counseling him since they were kids. 

"You're gonna laugh," he muttered, staring down at the cover of his one of his favorite books. All about fantasy and mythical creatures and hoping, more than anything, that there was more in the world than what they saw - what they knew. He pursed his lips. "I've been going to The Cottage," he blurted before he could stop himself.

Julia stared at him. "Okay?" she said, obviously confused. "That's the little bar downtown, right?" she asked, watching him closely.

He kept his expression carefully blank as he answered, "yes."

"Okay," she said again and slid down from the armrest, settling on the couch beside him. She pressed up against him. "Why didn't you just tell me that? I'm - you're an adult, Q, you're allowed to have fun. Actually," she smiled. "I'm proud of you."

A lump formed in his throat, uncomfortable and big.

"I'm not going for, like... fun," he said.

Julia blinked once. "Uh, okay? Why else would you be going to a bar?" Suddenly, her face lit up. "Do you have a crush, Q?" 

He blanched and looked away. "Absolutely not, Jules. It's - it's for. Ugh." There was no avoiding it. He reached up and scrubbed a hand over his face. "You know how I'm always stalking those, uh, forums, right?"

"Q," she replied, a warning.

He knew she hated those forums. ("You let them get into your head too much, Q.")

Quentin let his hand fall, peering at Julia. "A few people mentioned The Cottage on them."

"What?" she asked in disbelief. "Why?"

Oh, this was going to be the fun part. 

He smiled nervously. "They say it's a hot spot for, uh, the supernatural."

"Fuck," Julia breathed and he could tell the moment she grew truly aggravated, frown lines forming between her eyes. She stood up from the couch in a hurry and turned on him, a serious expression on her face. "Q, you're - you're joking, right?"

He felt so small suddenly. "Uh."

"You can't keep doing this!" she said, not yelling, exactly, but almost. 

Quentin just stared at her. He'd been expecting this, but for some reason the words still stung. 

"I thought you said you were getting away from all those crazy beliefs and - and conspiracy theories, frankly," she continued, crossing her arms. She didn't look angry anymore, just dejected, exhausted (with him). "You were doing so good," she added, softly.

He looked down at his feet. "But - "

"No," she interrupted, firm but kind. She sat back down and took his hands. "Q, I know you wish, more than anything, for - for a miracle, something. But it's not going to happen," she said, squeezing his hands. "But that doesn't mean you can't find happiness elsewhere."

Quentin nodded mutely, staring at their hands.

"You mentioned wanting to go back to school, right? Maybe be a professor or something?"

He had mentioned that. Months ago, but. "I don't - "

"You should aim for that," she said, smiling brightly. 

Quentin's shoulders slumped, all his energy draining out of him in a flash. "Yeah," he said, quiet and void of any real emotion. 

If Julia noticed she didn't say anything, just leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "And if you find yourself wanting to go to a bar, I know a good place," she said as she pulled back, a stern smile on her face. "And we can go together, okay?"

He nodded and forced a smile of his own. 

Maybe he should let this go. Not for Julia, but for himself.

* * *

Quentin doesn't actually go back to school or anything. He knew it'd been an empty conversation; less about that, and more about just getting his mind off - well. You know. Julia was content as long as he went to work each day and came back and spent the night with her, watching movies or playing games.

And he was happy doing all that. He loved Julia. For a few days he even thought, maybe, he could really do this - let it all go, be a real adult.

But then he got a notification on his phone from one of the forums.

The Cottage is the real deal, an anonymous user posted.

Quentin quickly deleted the notification and started on dinner for the both of them.

* * *

"What if I go," Quentin started, "but not in, like, search of anything?"

Julia looked over at him; they were both on the couch, doing their own thing. Julia was doing paperwork and Quentin was reading a book. She narrowed her eyes. "Huh?"

He ignored the look on her face and continued, "I want to go back to The Cottage."

"I thought - " she started but he quickly cut her off.

"Just for fun," he said. "It was... it was a beautiful place, Jules. You should come with me," he said, and he could see the small shift in Julia's face.

Bingo, he thought, waiting for it.

"Okay," she said, clearing her throat. "But if you're weird at all..."

Quentin smiled brightly. "I won't be," he assured her. "It'll be fun," he added after a beat.

Julia watched him for a few long moments, silent and calculating. Finally she nodded and reached over, patting his leg. "Yeah," she said. "Like the old days."

When they were young and could get away with partying all the time. But back then Quentin had been so shy and nervous all the time he'd never really enjoyed himself. At least now he'd gotten a little better and even if nothing happened - even if The Cottage turned out to be a big bust - at least they could genuinely have a fun night together, just the two of them.

"Saturday?" he suggested, hopefully.

Julia laughed softly and nodded, going back to the stack of papers in her lap. 

* * *

The bar was booming when they arrived, just a few hours after opening. Julia blended right in, of course, gorgeous like all the other patrons. She had even dressed up for the occasion in a short, tight blue dress and boots. She tugged Quentin to the bar and sat with him, waving down - Penny, yup.

"It is nice," she admitted, looking around with wide eyes.

Quentin smiled lightly and watched as Penny walked over and stumbled a bit as he spotted Julia at the bar. He rolled his eyes.

"Hello," Penny quickly recovered.

Julia quirked an eyebrow at him and smiled politely. "Hi."

No thanks, not happening. Quentin leaned onto the bar. "Hello. Drinks, please," he said, tapping the top of the bar. "I mean, that is, like, your literal job or something."

Penny glared at him. Over the last few days they had definitely not become friends. But he turned away and started on their drinks anyway. When he turned back and dropped a glass in front of each of them, Quentin only just then realized they hadn't told him what they wanted but sure enough...

He frowned.

Julia apparently wasn't paying attention because she wasn't put off at all by Penny knowing her usual order despite never having stepped foot into this particular bar.

"I love this song," she mused, looking at Quentin with pleading eyes.

He took a sip of his drink and coughed. "Please, God, no," he pleaded back. With actual words. He hated dancing.

That's when Quentin noticed something: Penny wasn't the only bartender on duty that night; there was another bartender and she was watching them. No, she was watching Julia. Quentin pressed his lips together and quickly downed his drink.

"Q!" Julia exclaimed though she was laughing, patting his back. 

He lifted his glass and waved the bartender over, grateful that Penny was distracted by other customers at the moment.

The bartender strolled over, slow and casual and like she owned the place. Quentin knew she didn't. Julia looked up at her arrival and smiled politely.

The most noticeable thing about the unnamed bartender was her hair, wild, dark curls.

"Hi," Julia greeted, taking Quentin's glass from him and laughing lightly. "Here."

The woman took the glass and turned away, refilling it. Quentin watched Julia, saw the way her eyes racked over the woman's body and oh. He pressed a hand over his mouth, stifling a grin.

At least it wasn't Penny, right?

She turned back around and delivered their drinks, expression still carefully cool. But she didn't leave, which was a good sign. Quentin nudged Julia's foot. She cut her eyes at him but he just smiled innocently.

"Um. Hi, I'm Julia," she said.

"Kady," the bartender supplied helpfully.

Quentin nudged Julia's foot again. She didn't even look at him. 

"Do you wanna dance?" Julia blurted before quickly continuing, "I mean, you're working, that's - I'm sorry."

Quentin watched as the corners of Kady's mouth twitched. "Sure," she said, tapping the top of the bar, "Penny can take care of things."

She walked around the bar and came to a stop in front of Julia and now Quentin - and Julia, too - could get a better look at her. She was slightly taller than Julia and wearing jeans with a leather jacket casually draped over a maroon t-shirt. She looked insanely hot, even Quentin could see that despite the whole look not really being his thing.

Kady's eyes cut over. "A friend?"

Quentin startled and nodded quickly. "Yes," he assured her.

"Oh, Q," Julia breathed like she'd somehow forgotten he was there, like he wasn't the whole reason they were there in the first place. "I'm sorry. Do you - do you wanna dance with us?" she asked, sweet as ever, always including him.

He didn't need to look to know Kady probably had a displeased look on her face.

"I'm okay," he assured her, too, patting her arm. "I'm a terrible dancer, anyway."

Julia didn't look entirely convinced but she went off with Kady, anyway. Quentin leaned back against the bar and watched them; Kady was an exceptional dancer, actually, and while Julia wasn't the best, she still kept an air about her.

When the song changed and slowed down, Quentin watched as their dancing shifted into something almost a little filthy.

He pressed his lips together, fighting back an amused grin, and turned away.

Well, at least Julia was having fun. 

"I don't believe you're a regular," a man's voice, smooth and silky, interrupted his thoughts and Quentin froze because despite only having heard it once he knew that voice. 

Quentin slowly looked up and, sure enough, it was Eliot standing in front of him. He looked as lovely as the first time Quentin had seen him; dressed up but in a way that implied it was all natural, casual, like he didn't have to try. Quentin swallowed around the lump in his throat as his eyes flickered to the crowd of moving bodies but Julia and even Kady were nowhere to be seen.

Just his luck.

"Um. I'm not," he said finally, after too long. God, Eliot probably thought he was stupid.

But if he did, he didn't say anything. Just smiled and slid onto the stool beside him. "Can I expect you to be?" he asked, raising a dark eyebrow in question.

"Uhh," Quentin responded lamely. He thought of Julia and their conversations - arguments, really - and the forums always blowing up about The Cottage. He gulped audibly. "Maybe," he answered.

Maybe if he could get Julia to love the place she wouldn't question his frequent visits as much. Or something.

"Are you not having fun?" Eliot asked, a thin frown forming on his face.

Quentin startled. "No, no," he assured him. "I'm just - I'm - " he gestured at his brain, his very much broken brain. Not that a stranger would know that, he realized. "I'm just - thinking," he finished. "Sorry."

"No need," Eliot replied, and now the frown was shifting into an amused smirk. "About what?"

Quentin hadn't really thought Eliot would ask, so he hadn't really thought about what he would say if he did. He considered telling the truth for a moment but. That would be weird, right? Eliot owned the place and if anything he'd probably be upset by such outlandish rumors.

Before he could reply though Eliot's phone went off, tucked away in the pocket of his jacket. Quentin watched as he answered and called the person on the other end "Bambi". When he hung up he tucked his phone away again and smiled politely at Quentin. 

"Sorry, seems that my presence is needed elsewhere," he mused.

Quentin nodded, was equal parts disappointed and relieved. Eliot stood up and gently pressed a hand to Quentin's forearm, a quick, feathery soft touch that was - Quentin realized with a start - unnaturally cold. 

"I hope I'll see you again soon," he said, smiling.

Quentin nodded dumbly and waited until he'd walked off to look at his arm, at all the little goosebumps. That was - weird, right? The club was, if anything, insanely hot from all the body heat and lights. He looked up and tried to search for Eliot's back in the crowd but he was already gone. 


	3. Chapter 3

After that, Julia came back. She was flushed and a little sweaty from all the dancing but she looked happy in a way Quentin hadn’t seen her in a long, long time. For the moment he pushed away all thoughts of Eliot and focused on her.

“Have fun?” he teased gently.

Julia laughed lightly and sat beside him, brushing hair behind her ears. “Kady was - ” she cut herself and quickly continued, “we should come back next week. If you want.”

Quentin rolled his eyes and nudged her. “Sure,” he said. “Sounds fun.”

He thought of Eliot and his unnaturally cold skin and considered telling Julia about it but. Maybe he was being unreasonable; maybe he just ran cold or something.

Julia smiled at him, bright and open. “By the way, I’ve noticed someone staring at you,” she singsonged, eyes sparkling.

Quentin stiffened. “What?”

“And she’s, like, totally cute,” she added.

Quentin followed Julia’s eyes and looked over his shoulder and frowned, deeply. Alice was at the other end of the bar, glaring at him.

“Jules, do you know the difference between staring and glaring?” he muttered, turning away.

Julia blinked. “Why would a random hot stranger be glaring at you?”

He sighed heavily. “I’ve met her before. When I came here the first time. Her name is Alice. She’s - ” he considered saying a believer, like me, before deciding better of it. “We kinda had a bad first meeting.”

Julia nodded, slow and thoughtful. Before Quentin could stop her she was opening her big mouth and waving Alice over. “Hey! Alice, right?”

He cringed visibly and turned. He watched as Alice slowly walked over; she was dressed a lot more casual than last time in a pair of black pants and an oversized grey t-shirt. Not really fitting for a bar at all.

Quentin barely knew her but somehow he knew her appearance was odd and probably not a good sign.

As soon as she was close enough to be heard over the loud music, she was talking, “I need to talk to you,” she said, so quick the words kind of blended together. She was staring at Quentin, an oddly serious expression on her face.

He blinked. Julia slid off her stool.

“I’ll give you both some privacy,” she said with a wink and disappeared before Quentin could correct her.

He was so not looking forward to their conversation about this later. 

"What is it?" Quentin asked, maybe a little rudely.

Alice didn't look deterred though; she just sat down and folded her hands together in her lap. "I slept with Margo," she said like that was a totally normal conversation starter.

He stared at her. "What?" Then, "why is that any of my business?"

"Well," Alice tilted her head back and forth thoughtfully. "It's not, but what happened after might be - " she scrunched her nose. "Maybe. I'm still not sure - uh, what to make of it?" 

Quentin narrowed his eyes. "Do I even want to ask?"

"It's nothing bad," Alice continued quickly. "I just - after we slept together, I spent the night." She had a thoughtful look on her face. "Which I don't think is something that happens often? I heard she, uh - she usually kicks people out, so maybe that's why..." 

Quentin sighed, impatient. "Just spit it out, will you?"

Alice glared at him but continued anyway, "I got up in the middle of the night because I was hungry," she cleared her throat. "So, I thought 'okay, I'll just grab something'. Totally reasonable, right?"

He wasn't sure why she was asking him but he nodded anyway.

"Right. Okay, so I opened her fridge and - and she had nothing but meat."

Quentin blinked at her. That was not what he'd been expecting, like, at all. "Excuse me?"

"Okay, I know how that sounds but like. Her entire fridge was full of it, Quentin. That's, like, weird, right?" Before Quentin could say anything, she continued, "especially for a girl like Margo. She's fit and - I don't know. I just thought it was odd," she tampered off, quietly, obviously unsure of herself.

Quentin felt bad, really. "Maybe she just really likes meat," he said, stifling a laugh.

Alice glared at him again. "You said you believed in the supernatural," she said, accusingly, "so I thought I should find you and tell you because I don't care what you say that was weird. A whole fridge packed with meat? Come on," she sighed harshly and slid off her stool. "But I think I made a mistake, actually."

She turned away but before she could leave Quentin grabbed her arm.

"I'm - I'm sorry," he said. "I'm listening. Really."

Alice stared at him for a long moment before sitting back down. "Have you noticed anything?"

He thought of Eliot. "Kind of," he admitted. "You know Eliot?" Alice nodded and so he continued, "I saw him earlier. Like, before you arrived."

Alice hummed thoughtfully. "What did he say?"

"Nothing important," Quentin answered honestly. "But that's not what's been sticking with me. He touched me." Alice's eyes widened and he flushed, quickly adding, "not like that. Just a casual, friendly touch." He reached out and touched her arm again. "Like this, but... Alice, his hand was cold. Like ice."

Alice looked away, obviously deep in thought. "I think we're onto something."

"Really?" Quentin said, maybe a little hopefully. Maybe they weren't out of their minds.

She looked back. "But right now we have absolutely no proof," she continued breezily. "We need to keep looking for something real. Undeniable."

He nodded quickly. "Okay," he agreed.

"Okay," Alice mimicked, slipping off her stool. "Do you have your phone?"

Quentin raised an eyebrow but nodded and pulled out his phone anyway, watching quietly as she did something on it. When she returned his phone he quickly realized she'd inputted her number under "Alice".

"Text me," she said, "so I have your number, too." When Quentin didn't say anything, she added, "we need a way to keep in touch with each other, in case we find something."

Oh, right.

Quentin sent her a quick, generic text. "Done."

For a moment they both didn't say anything. It was awkward. "Okay, well. I'll see you around, Quentin," Alice said, prim and proper, before she turned and walked off.

As soon as she was gone Julia took her place, bright eyed and grinning like she knew something Quentin didn't. He rolled his eyes.

"Did you two exchange numbers?" she asked, light and teasing. 

Quentin playfully nudged her with his foot. "Jules, seriously, it's not - really," he assured her firmly when she didn't look convinced.

She shrugged. "Okay, okay," she patted his arm. "Whatever you say, Q."

* * *

The thing was Quentin needed a night at the bar by himself if he really wanted to find any useful information. Julia was fun and he loved her but she was a distraction, albeit a good one. So that following week, the day of, he told her, "I don't feel so good. I don't think I should go out tonight."

Julia looked vaguely disappointed but her disappointment was quickly replaced with concern. "Do you need anything?"

"No, no," he assured her, feeling only a little bad for lying. "I just wanna sleep."

Julia nodded and hugged him. "I'll be quiet as a mouse," she whispered, kissing the top of his head before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Quentin waited a few minutes, probably ten or fifteen, before he crawled out of bed and walked to the door, listening. It really was quiet. Opening the door, he peeked out. The living room was empty.

He grabbed a jacket and slowly walked to the front door. He opened it quietly and slipped out into the hall, closing it with a soft click.

Sorry, Jules, he thought briefly before he turned and started off down the hall.

* * *

The Cottage was surprisingly vacant when he arrived - people were there, of course, but not nearly as many as before. Quentin walked to the bar and sat down. Penny promptly ignored his arrival; good thing he wasn't looking to drink tonight.

"Hello," a voice - definitely not Eliot's - purred almost right in his ear.

Quentin startled and spun around. A man, fairly plain looking, stood in front of him. Not that Quentin had room to judge; most people would probably say he looked pretty plain, too. "Uh, hi," he squeaked, clearing his throat after.

The man smiled in a way that sent a shiver down Quentin's spine but he couldn't put his finger on why. He looked plain and safe, like any other man you probably saw walking down the street.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" the man purred, sitting beside him and tapping the top of the bar. Penny glared at him.

Quentin was, well, shocked. "Sweetheart?" he repeated in disbelief before quickly saying, "I - uh, Quentin."

"Quentin," the man said, slowly, like he was testing it out on his tongue. "I'm Reynard."

He smiled nervously, politely. "Right, well," he looked away. "I'm not really... looking for, uh, anything tonight. So." Quentin shrugged sharply. "Sorry."

Reynard apparently did not understand social cues, which - coming from Quentin that was rich. He spun toward Quentin. "Playing hard to get," he purred and the words gave Quentin goosebumps and not in the way Eliot had earlier.

"Not playing," he remarked, a bit sharp.

He glanced in Penny's direction but he was currently attending to a different patron. Looking away, Quentin slid off his stool and started off in the direction of the bathrooms. Reynard didn't say a word.

Good, maybe he'd finally fuck off.

Quentin wasn't a big fan of public bathrooms, actually, but whatever - if he was going to hide out, might as well. He walked in and strolled up to one of the urinals, hand pausing on his zipper when he heard the door open.

Just another patron, Quentin, no big deal. He shook his head and unzipped, looking over.

"Fuck," he hissed, scrambling away from the urinal and up against one of the walls. "Dude," he said, glaring daggers at Reynard. "What part of 'I'm not interested' do you not understand?"

Reynard grinned, showing off teeth that look just a little too sharp. "All of it," he replied evenly as he took a step forward. 

Quentin thought briefly of that one time, years ago, when his father had gifted him a pocket knife. ("For your safety, curly Q.") He had laughed at him and never used it, tucking it away in his sock drawer. Right now he was regretting that. 

"Just - fuck off," he said, less heat, more genuine fear as he pushed off from the wall and tried to walk around him.

Of course, as luck would have it, Reynard was not going to be so easily deterred. He reached out and grabbed his arm with what was, frankly, inhuman strength. Quentin yelped and tried to pull his arm free but Reynard wasn't budging, just watching him with -

"What the fuck is wrong with your eyes?" Quentin gasped; they looked - weird, unnatural, yellow with black slits for pupils. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.

Reynard grinned toothily and squeezed his arm tight and tight and tighter. Quentin could hear blood rushing in his ears.

"L - let me go," Quentin stammered. The music suddenly sounded distant, miles away. 

Reynard leaned forward, so slow, almost like a predator teasing its prey. "Beg," he breathed once he was close, hovering inches from Quentin's face.

For a second Quentin really thought about it.

But then he decided fuck it. He collected spit in his mouth and spat in in his face. 

"Fuck you!" he cursed loudly just as the door slammed open behind him.

Quentin looked behind him and was surprised to see Penny standing there, a hard, cold expression on his face. He sneered at Reynard.

"Out," he said, evenly.

Quentin almost rolled his eyes. Oh, yeah, that'll work.

But surprisingly Reynard released his arm, frowning deeply. He stared at Quentin for a moment before sweeping past him and Penny. Quentin could finally hear the music again. It was loud, almost too loud. He took a shaky breath and barely registered that Penny was walking toward him.

"Hey," he said, softer than Quentin had ever heard him frankly. "Calm down, okay?"

Quentin looked up at him. He blinked a few times. "I... don't feel so good."

Penny wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You're okay," he assured him. "Come on."

Penny led him out of the bathroom and through the crowd to a small door located in one of the back corners of the bar. It had a huge, intimidating lock on it. Quentin blinked, watched as Penny unlocked it and pushed him through before following behind him. It was... an office, of sorts.

With a desk and chair and a couch and a few bookshelves. Quentin was so confused but too tired for questions.

Penny led him to the couch. "Rest, collect yourself." He laid the lock on the table in front of him. "Just lock up when you leave, okay?"

Quentin sat on the couch, stared at the lock. "You really think that's a good idea?" he asked.

"Why?" Penny raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

Quentin pressed his lips together and slowly shook his head. "No," he muttered. Then without waiting for a reply he laid down on the couch and closed his eyes. After a few seconds he heard the door open and close.

* * *

Quentin woke up slowly, twisting and turning on the uncomfortable couch. When he finally opened his eyes, he just stared at the ceiling for a long, quiet moment before he turned his head and startled at the sight of someone - fuck, Eliot - sitting at the desk, watching him with mild amusement.

He quickly sat up, heart thumping loudly behind his rib cage. "Sorry," he blurted.

Eliot raised a dark eyebrow and sat back. "For what?"

"Uh," Quentin replied dumbly. He looked down; there was a blanket draped over his legs that hadn't been there before. "Um. For the trouble," he said finally.

Eliot hummed softly and folded his hands together, still watching him like a hawk. "I'm... sorry for Reynard," he started after a moment, finally looking away. "He can be a handful, but. It's hard to keep him out; he's tricky like that."

"Tricky," he muttered. That was an understatement. "Wait. What time is it?"

Leaning over, Eliot tapped the screen of his phone, the screen lighting up his face as he answered, "a little after midnight."

Quentin nodded, relaxing. Julia probably hadn't noticed anything yet, then.

"Are you feeling okay?" Eliot asked, gentle and smooth.

He thought about it. "Yeah," he confirmed, letting his legs fall from the couch and to the floor. He noticed, also, that his shoes had been removed, placed by neatly on the floor. He smiled, just a hint. 

"Then, come," Eliot said, breaking him from his thoughts. Quentin looked up just as he waved him over. "Have a drink with me?"

Quentin slowly stood up, ignoring his shoes for the moment, and shuffled over to the desk, taking the seat across from Eliot. Eliot smiled warmly and grabbed another glass from the small rolling bar beside his desk, pouring them both a drink. Quentin accepted it gratefully.

For a few minutes they just drank, comfortable silence.

Finally, Quentin broke it. "You're young," he blurted, unable to help himself. Eliot stared back at him, an eyebrow raised. "I - I mean," he looked down. "To be the owner of such a successful bar and all."

"Ah," Eliot hummed. "That's mostly thanks to my partner, Margo." Quentin could hear the smile in his voice. "Couldn't have accomplished any of this without her."

Quentin nodded and peeked up at him from under his bangs. "Are you two..." 

Eliot laughed, not unkindly. "We've slept together, yes, but usually with a man between us," he said, eyes sparkling with something akin to amusement. "Why do you ask?"

Flushed, Quentin quickly finished his drink, throat burning. "No reason. Just curious." Smiling sheepishly, he placed his empty glass on the desk. "I - I should probably go," he said. "My friend is probably worried about me," he lied easily.

"Hmm," Eliot stared at him. "Right," he continued after a beat. "Well, I'm glad you're okay."

Quentin's smile shifted into something a little more real as he stood up. "Thank you, Eliot. For, uh, letting me - recoup and uh," he gestured, "the drink."

Eliot smiled back, tilting his head. "No need for thanks, Quentin. Have a good night."

He ignored the fluttering in his chest as he rushed over and grabbed his shoes, tugging them on over his socks. Before he left, though, he stopped and looked back at Eliot, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Can I ask something?"

Eliot nodded, gesturing. "Go on."

He thought of Reynard and his eyes and his sharp teeth and his inhuman strength. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Did - did I imagine things or - I don't know. Reynard seemed... odd. Like, his eyes and stuff," he muttered, trailing off.

Eliot hummed quietly and pushed his chair out, standing up and circling his desk. Quentin couldn't help thinking: God, he's so tall. 

"Quentin, I'm afraid maybe something got into your system," he explained evenly, approaching him. He placed a gentle, friendly hand on his shoulder. "Reynard might be a creep, but I assure you there's nothing more to him than that."

He watched Eliot closely, waiting to spot a crack in his facade but nothing.

"Okay," he agreed eventually. "I - that makes sense, yeah."

Eliot smiled warmly and squeezed his shoulder once before letting go, opening the door for him. "Be safe on your way home."


	4. Chapter 4

Of course when Quentin came back, Julia was up and waiting for him, arms crossed over her chest with a deep set frown on her face. "Q," she said, a warning. "Where were you?"

He smiled sheepishly as he gently closed the door behind him with a soft, familiar click. "The Cottage?" he answered.

"Okay," Julia replied, which - was, well, less of a reaction than he'd been expecting, actually. She walked over and sat on the couch, waving him over.

He walked over and sat down, pulling his legs up against his chest and hugging his knees. Julia watched him for a moment before continuing, "I love you, Q," she said, warm and sincere, "I just want what's best for you. You know that, right?"

Quentin hated these conversations more than anything. He would rather be yelled at.

"Yeah, Jules," he whispered.

She smiled, fond and a little sad. "I want you to - to be happy and thrive and. I know that's never going to come easy for you, but you have to at least try."

He nodded quietly.

"But," she continued sharply, "I think I'm not entirely blameless either."

Quentin looked up at that. 

"I keep expecting things from you, hard things, and not giving anything in return," Julia explained as she reached out and squeezed his leg. "So, come on. Tell me all about it."

He stared at her. "What?"

"The Cottage," she said, patting his leg once before pulling her hand back into her lap. "You obviously really think there's something going on there. So tell me."

Quentin blinked. Once, twice. He felt a fluttering in his chest. He never expected Julia, especially now, would humor him. He almost felt like this had to be a trap. "You don't - you don't have to, Jules. You're right; it's stupid."

She smiled and shuffled closer on the couch, leaning against him. "How about a compromise?" she said, gently knocking their heads together. "You can go to The Cottage on Saturdays. By yourself, with me, doesn't matter, just. That's it, okay? The rest of the week you focus on everything else. Work, your health."

"Okay," he answered quickly.

Julia smiled, warm and sincere, and pushed some hair out of his face. "So, tell me," she said, settling in. "I'm all ears."

Quentin nodded slowly and started to list off all the things he'd heard about The Cottage from the forums and even other sources. Then, "Alice thinks there might be something going on, too."

"Oh," Julia breathed. "So... you two really aren't..." she gestured obscenely.

"Jules!" he exclaimed, pushing her playfully. "We're not, really."

She looked disappointed but only for a split second. "Sorry, can't blame a girl for dreaming," she wrapped an arm around him and squeezed. "You know, there's this girl at work - she's really sweet - "

Quentin quickly cut her off. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

Julia sighed and nodded, patting his arm. "Sure. So, The Cottage. Have you guys discovered anything yet?"

He thought of their two very mundane discoveries. "Maybe?" he said, furrowing his brows. "Nothing solid." Julia stared at him expectantly and he continued, "Eliot and Margo. They're the owners of the place, right?" Julia nodded, patiently listening. "Well, Alice is... well, she's kind of into Margo," he said simply.

Julia hummed softly, and he continued, "and they apparently, um, hooked up," he ignored the warmth radiating off his face, "and while Alice was staying over at her place, she discovered she had, like, an abnormal amount of meat in her fridge."

"Okay," Julia said, obviously confused but a little intrigued. "Maybe she owns a lot of dogs?"

Quentin made a noise. "I suggested that later while were texting and Alice said no. Said the only animal she saw in her place was a fish."

Julia stifled a laugh. "Okay, so, definitely not for a pet. Got it. But maybe the girl just really likes meat," she said with a shrug. "It's possible, right?"

She had a point, of course. He stared at his hands. "Maybe."

"Anything else?" she prompted.

Quentin thought of Eliot. Tall, intimidating Eliot with his dark curls and pale skin. He swallowed thickly. "Eliot, uh. Um, he touched me once. Well, twice but. Only once skin to skin and it was - his hand was insanely cold, Jules."

"Twice?" Julia parroted, eyes sparkling with something like amusement.

He groaned. "Not like that," he replied. "Jesus."

She nodded but her eyes kept sparkling. "Okay, sorry. So, cold hands and lots of meat."

Quentin barely stifled his laugh. "Fuck, out of context, that's... a lot."

"Yeah, kind of," she confirmed, the corners of her mouth quirking up. "So, what now?"

Quentin shrugged, a bit sharp. "I - I guess we can go again next week?" he suggested, chewing on his bottom lip. "See if we can find anything else."

For a moment Julia just watched him, silent. "Okay," she said eventually, patting his shoulder, "but until then I better not hear even a word about this, got it?"

He nodded quickly, relief blooming in his chest. It wasn't - it wasn't perfect, but it was enough. He could work with it. "I swear," he said. 

Julia smiled, soft and understanding, and stood up. "I'm going back to sleep, then." She nudged him with her foot. "You should sleep, too."

"I will," he said, honestly. Julia leaned down and kissed the top of his head before turning away and walking back to her room. Before she could open the door, though, Quentin jumped up and blurted, "Jules!"

She paused and looked over at him. 

"I - just." He took a deep breath. "Thank you."

Julia smiled again. "I love you, Q. Goodnight."

He watched as she opened the door and disappeared into her room. Plopping back down on the couch, he tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling, slowly smiling. With Julia's help maybe... just maybe they really could find something.

* * *

The next week went by surprisingly fast. By the time Saturday came around Quentin was vibrating with anticipation. Julia took one look at him and rolled her eyes, mostly fond. "I'm so not sure this is a good idea," she said but she was smiling as she grabbed her jacket and pulled it on over her outfit. "Come on."

When they arrived at The Cottage it was, once again, full of people, dancing and laughing and drinking.

Julia led them to the bar. Penny was nowhere to be seen, Quentin quickly noticed, and couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. He wanted to thank him, though he wasn't so sure he wanted to do that in front of Julia, anyway.

He never ended up telling her about his encounter with Reynard. 

Kady was there though and Julia visibly perked up upon seeing her. Quentin didn't say a word. They sat near the end of the bar and waited for Kady to get finished with another patron before walking over.

"Hey," she greeted, smoothly.

Julia smiled, tucking some hair behind her ears. "Hi."

"What do you want?" Kady asked, blatantly ignoring Quentin. He didn't really mind.

Julia's smile widened, just a little. "Whatever you recommend," she said breezily.

He rolled his eyes fondly as Kady smirked and turned away. He noticed she was at least making two drinks. He nudged Julia and she smacked his leg under the top of the bar. After a minute Kady turned back and placed two drinks on the bar.

Quentin took one and turned away, looking around the bar.

Almost as if on cue his phone vibrated in the pocket of his jacket. He placed his drink down and quickly fished it out, ignoring Julia's curious look. It was Alice. He smiled politely at the girls and excused himself.

Thankfully Julia only watched him for a moment, slightly concerned, before Kady drew her attention back.

"Hi," he said, answering the call.

"I - I have something," were the first words out of Alice's mouth.

Quentin stood up straighter. "What?"

"I'm at The Cottage - "

Quentin interrupted, "me too."

"Can you meet me near the bathrooms?"

Odd choice, but he agreed anyway. "Uh - yeah, yeah, just give me a second."

After hanging up, he walked back over and touched Julia's arm. "Hey, uh." His eyes flickered to Kady and back again. "Can you come with me?"

Kady and Julia both looked slightly disappointed but Julia slid off her stool, anyway, shooting an apologetic look at Kady.

"Have fun," Kady said, turning away.

Julia was frowning as Quentin pulled her away and in the direction of the bathrooms.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, though she wasn't actually angry.

He stopped walking once they'd reached the bathrooms, searching for Alice. "Alice said she found something," he explained.

Suddenly any annoyance was wiped off Julia's face and replaced with genuine curiosity.

Quentin finally caught sight of Alice and waved her off. She pushed through a group of folks waiting for the bathroom and walked over, pausing when her eyes landed on Julia, hard and calculating. "Why is she here?"

"She's one of us," Quentin explained quickly. "Or, well, she's willing to humor us, at least."

Alice did not look impressed with his explanation but she continued despite that, pulling out her phone and showing the screen to the two of them. It was a video of - "Kady?" Julia asked, immediately recognizing the woman as she entered the bathroom of the bar.

"Just keep watching," Alice said tersely.

Quentin did just that, watching closely as the video continued and, after a few seconds, someone emerged from the bathroom. It wasn't Kady, though, but another young woman. He looked up at Alice. "Um. What is this?"

"Why were you stalking Kady?" Julia asked, a bit defensively.

Alice rolled her eyes and stuffed her phone in her pocket. "That's not - that's not the point," she said. "Kady entered that bathroom, right? You saw it."

Quentin nodded slowly. "Um. Yes."

"But she never left," Alice said, looking between them. "I stood there and waited and no one came out but that - that other woman. So, I went and checked and - " she shot Julia a look, who was looking at her with judgment " - I know I sound crazy right now, but no one else was in that bathroom."

Quentin nodded again, even slower. "So... what are you saying?"

"I don't know!" Alice said, bursting. "But unless there's a secret doorway in the bathroom of a fucking bar, Kady did something. I - I don't know what, but. Something."

Julia touched Quentin's arm. "Q?"

He patted her hand. "We have, like, two options, then, right? She either, like, transported or something. Or..."

Julia squeezed his arm. "She - she's - she's a shapeshifter," she whispered, eyes wide. "No, no way, right?" she quickly continued, looking at Quentin. "Maybe there is a doorway or something."

"Maybe," Alice admitted, "but I checked when I was in there and I didn't see anything."

Quentin laughed, sudden and sharp. "Fuck," he said at a loss for words.

* * *

"Should we, like, approach her and ask her about it?" Julia suggested a couple hours later; they had all left the bar and gone to Alice's apartment (only because it was closer).

Quentin thought Alice's apartment reflected her a lot; it was small and a little cold, both literally and figuratively. There wasn't much in the living room - just a small couch and a single bookshelf. One look and he noticed most of the books were about mythical creatures, myths.

Alice had made them tea and she took a sip from her mug, swallowing quickly. "Do you think she'd tell us the truth?" 

"I - " Julia cut herself off, pursing her lips. She stared down into her own mug. "No."

Quentin knew this was hard on Julia; she had obviously been growing feelings for the girl. "This doesn't have to be a bad thing," he said, leaning into her side. "I mean, sure, it's weird. And, like, a lot. But there's nothing to imply Kady's a bad person, even if she isn't exactly... human."

Julia's eyes flickered up to his face. She smiled, small and warm. "Thanks, Q."

"I think," Alice interrupted their moment, her voice even and a little clipped, "our best bet is trying to get more information."

Quentin raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what we've been doing?" he sighed.

"Not just any information," she continued, tilting her chin up. "We need to learn more about Eliot and Margo. I mean, they own the bar. And," she looked at Quentin, "we already have reason to believe they probably aren't human either."

Julia shrugged, adjusting her grip on her mug. "Haven't you already slept with Margo, though? How much closer can you get?"

Quentin noticed the flash of hurt that crossed Alice's face. He frowned, leaning forward. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing," she replied, a little too fast. "Just. After we slept together, she hasn't really been... I don't know. She's been avoiding me, I think."

Quentin's frown deepened. "I'm - "

"If you say you're sorry, I swear to God," Alice interrupted sharply. "I'll find a way." Quentin really wanted to say he was sorry, because he was, but clearly Alice was not interested. Fair enough. She steadied him with a look. "But that means you'll get Eliot."

He straightened up. "What? Why?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "I don't think we - " she gestured between her and Julia " - are his type."

Quentin blinked. "What?" Then, "oh." 

He was so dumb.

Julia touched his arm gently. "You don't have to do anything," she said, ignoring Alice. "You know that, right? Whatever's going on, we can just - walk away and never look back." She squeezed his arm. "If that's what you want."

Quentin thought of Julia and Kady and their connection. Yeah, right, he would never do that to her. He put on a brave face. "I'll do it."

It wasn't like it was the worst job in the world, anyway. Eliot was... nice and obviously, undeniably one of the most gorgeous people Quentin had ever laid eyes on.

"Okay," Alice said, looking pleased with the outcome. "Here's to hoping we find something useful," she said, lifting her mug into the air.

Julia snorted, maybe just a little fond, and knocked their mugs together. "Come on, Q."

He startled out of his thoughts and smiled sheepishly, joining them. 


End file.
